Flameheart
by crescentt
Summary: Two girls with strange abilities arrive at Beacon Hills trying to escape their past and change their future. After a chain of unfortunate events, they end up meeting the town's wolves and the humans associated with them.
1. It Wasn't Fire

**Note: **Grammar free, you will probably see everything and anything. I've left out important events that don't really serve their purpose in this story. Not a single person is in character, I can't get anyone right. It's a big mess, but the actual plot line of the show is even worse. It's not entirely season two compatible. I do what I waaaaaaant.

(PS: Before you lovely people shoot me dead, just remember this is purely for fun and I am well aware that all the good, making-some-sense, well-structured fanfiction out there, is somewhere far from this... draft. This, again, is just for fun, and many canon events or facts have been omitted.)

**Chapter One**

**It Wasn't Fire**

_Once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were flying;_

_all alone I saw the werewolf and the werewolf was crying._

"So, I know we had an agreement and whatnot, but I...", I start explaining to her all the reasons I had to leave earlier and why I couldn't have waken her up. I tell her about the strange man that followed me in the cafe and how I couldn't go back home, leading him right into our safe place. I tell her that she needs to pack my things and take the first bus to Beacon Hills because that's how things should roll for the time being and that no, I can't shut up, plus she needs to listen to me because I'm older and for one time, I'm right.

Her shrieking. Her shrieking is the worst. I bet the old woman sitting beside me has already heard half of the cursing she's shooting at me and all I can do is roll my eyes at the window and watch the landscape slowly change, from muddy trees to humble houses. She's not pleased. She's not even neutral. She's just yelling and tells me that I promised to never leave her alone and I try my best to calm her down but she keeps shouting and shouting.

Then she calms down. She takes some deep breaths. "Okay," she finally says. "Okay, I'll... I'll pack some bags and I'll take the bus and I'll meet you... and it'll be fine. Right?"

I smile. "Sure it will."

"What if the man you saw comes after me?", she asks. "What if he makes a move?"

"He won't," I reassure her. "And you can always tur-", I look at the old lady and move closer to the window. "You can turn invisible," I whisper.

"Oh. Yes. There's that too."

"See?"

She's anxious. I can feel it in her way she forms her sentences and I have a bad taste in my mouth. I know she'll be fine, because she's not new at this, but still, that dark clothed man could be anywhere. He saw me leave. He never saw me with her. That means he might not even know she was there with me. He might have followed me. Oh. That would be really bad. Maybe he let it go. Agh, they never do though. They always come back for more. I'm prepared this time. And Beacon Hills has a reputation for the supernatural, so we might find some help here. Well, _I_ have to find some help. She won't be here for at least eight to ten more hours and I'll need to find us somewhere to stay… And school. If we don't want to draw stares, we'll need to stay in school. Parents? Business trip. Hawaii? No, no, too vocational. How about Paris? Yeah. It's sweet but serious too. France it is. And, "Yes, sir, they'll be gone for a long time", and, "No, no, we're used to it. We can really take care of ourselves". Maybe even a, "We've got some grandparents here," if necessary.

God, I've become such an expert at lying.

When we end the phone call, the bus has stopped and everyone's already started getting off. I don't have anything with me except my phone, which battery is dying, ID, my keys to the previous place, some pills in my back pocket and a sweater strapped around my waist, that I'll now need to wear, because it's getting chilly here.

The first thing I see is the bakery shop.

(No, not really, that's my hunger.)

What I really see is the round square with the perfect trees and the perfect park and people walking around, chatting. Then the smell from the bakery on the corner of that street hits me and my stomach growls, but I shut it up because I don't have any money left, not until she arrives. Everything looks grayer here, from the weather to the roads and the houses. But it's familiar. Last time I was here, I was eleven or twelve... and that fire was the event of the week. A family had been burnt to ashes in their very own home and only a sixteen-year-old boy with his sister and their semi-burnt uncle had survived, with the last one being admitted to the hospital, falling into a coma.

Was it the Harvey family? Harv… Ha… _Hale_. Yes, it was the Hale's. Strange, yet kind people.

Their house was built somewhere in the woods. I could take a look later.

My steps bring me in front of a plain building that has a sign above the entrance that reads **ReRo** and I suppose it stands for "Rental Rooms". I open the door, it makes a loud jiggle noise and then I'm inside a friendly, tile-walls-everywhere lobby, with an old woman behind a wooden desk that's got huge purple glasses and types slowly on a pre-historic computer. I approach her, taking in everything around me, the maps up the walls of Beacon Hills and the couch below them, the welcome carpet that's been misplaced and it's now in the middle of the room.

I stand in front of the desk and she doesn't notice me, she's too sucked up into the internet world. She seems to struggle with something and she frowns and starts muttering words I don't understand. I lean over to her, just enough so I can see the monitor. It's simple Windows stuff.

"I might be able to help you," I say and her eyes glance over at me and she's a bit taken aback. I take a step back, because giving heart attacks to old people isn't my thing. I smile hesitantly, afraid she'll start chasing me with the baseball bat that's hanging right behind her.

"Oh, dear," she speaks in an old, sweet voice and thankfully, she doesn't seem angry at all. "I didn't see you there!"

"I'm sorry if I startled you," I apologize innocently. "You seem to need some help…?", I point at the computer. "I can assist."

She looks at the monitor again, she makes a face and then she nods. "That would be most delightful!", she grins and makes a gesture so I get next to her. When I take a look at the files and the archive problem, I explain to her as simply as possible how to move all the files to the one single envelope she wants to put them into. After three minutes and some other demonstrations, she's set. She thanks me many times and repeats what a bright young woman I am and that not many people have been kind to her in her life. I tell her it was nothing and I ask her if I can rent a room, because thankfully, it is a place for room rentals – that's what the files are; names, prices and days. We agree that I'll pay her as soon as possible, once my beloved sister arrives. She proceeds to ask me for an ID, because it's sadly, "things I cannot avoid, honey".

"Here you go," I give her my ID and she takes a good look at it. At first everything looks normal, she starts typing again my information, crosschecks things.

Then she stops.

She brings the ID closer to her eyes and then away again. She repeats two more times and finally her eyes rest on mine. Her lips are trembling a little bit and I don't understand, have I done something wrong? She scans my face, every detail. "Your name is Odette Banyoham?", she asks and her voice is close to a whisper.

I nod. "Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Banyoham? Your last name is _Banyoham_?"

I nod again.

Both of her eyebrows rise and she doesn't move. She gulps a bit and then smiles. "Are you sure, sweetheart?".

"Absolutely," I laugh, because I'd know my own surname. "You might have heard it before. I used to live here, when I was younger."

I can't read her face. She seems terrified but relieved at the same time. She stands up from her chair. "What was your father's name?", she keeps at it.

My eyes open wide open, but I pull myself together again. Was? She used past tense? She didn't say is, she said was and what the…. "How did—"

"What's your father's name?", she interrupts me and this time her voice is louder, needy for my answer.

"Ben. Ben Banyoham," I reply.

What the hell is going on.

"Benjamin Banyoham," she mumbles to herself and suddenly she changes faces again and she's smiling once more. "Okay. That's all," she hands me my ID. "There," she grins. "Your room is number 15 and it's in the far right of the second floor, right after you take the stairs," she gives me my key and sits back down again. "I hope you enjoy your stay, beautiful!", she exclaims and then starts typing slowly again like nothing happened.

I blink a few times and I want to ask her so many things, but I feel as if I imagined her reaction to my name and her knowledge about my father.

_Maybe she knew him_, I convince myself, _Maybe she had met him_, because really, my parents were friends with everyone around this town. I shake it off and start heading for the staircase, which is on the far left of the wooden desk. I can feel her eyes on me but I don't turn my back.

The room is quite big and it looks surprisingly comfortable. There's a double bed in the middle of the wall right across the door I'm standing and there's a small couch to my right, right under the big window that allows sunlight to come in. The walls are like those of the lobby and there's a circle shaped carpet with orange and red colours. To my left, there are two doors and I suppose one of them is the bathroom. I take a few steps towards the middle of the room and when I turn around, next to the door there's a huge painting hanging on the wall. It's a beautiful portrait of a blonde lady staring straight at me with her two big green eyes. She doesn't smile, but doesn't seem sad either. She's neutral. Her neck, instead of having a necklace, is occupied by a metal collar and her skin around that area is full of scars. Her lower lip is bleeding. In the painting's presence, I feel like I'm the pray.

Surprise, surprise.

I relax my shoulders and I lay down in the bed, my legs hanging on the front of the frame. I cross my hands on my belly and I stare at the almost-orange ceiling. This was a close one. He could have caught me, caught _us_. But he didn't, that's the positive aspect. And no one will try to reach us here, at least not for a while. They first need to map the whole town and I doubt they've got the blueprints of Beacon Hills. We'll like it here. It has everything we'll need, it even has a mall. It has people that hopefully will not recognize our names. We can blend it. We can start anew. Again. And if they try something, this time we'll be prepared, I'll make sure of it. I'll try to practice everyday, after school. They won't get to us. Not like they did with our parents, not like they did with so many other people with families.

_Fucking hunters_, my mind chants, before my eyelids become too heavy to keep them open.


	2. I'm Not Calling You A Liar

**Note: **It's late and I can't grammar-proof right now but hey I did it, I didn't forget SO YEY

shitty plot that doesn't even make sense oh yay

(PS: Before you lovely people shoot me dead, just remember this is purely for fun and I am well aware that all the good, making-some-sense, well-structured fanfiction out there, is somewhere far from this... draft. This, again, is just for fun, and many canon events or facts have been omitted.)

**Chapter Two**

**I'm Not Calling You A Liar**

_The lava of the volcano shot up hot from under the sea;_

_one thing leads to another and you made an island of me_

When I wake up, the sun has almost set. The room is quite dark, but I can see the stars from where I am. I sit up and try to shake off the dizziness. I head to one of the two doors, choosing the one that leads to the bathroom (the other one's a sort of small wardrobe). Inside the bathroom, the light is bright and there's a huge mirror above the sink. On each side of the mirror there are three small shelves. Aside the bottom one on my left with some toothpaste inside a glass, there's nothing else there. Thankfully, there are clean towels hanging on the wall, and the bath – oh yes, it's a bath and not a shower – is tempting. I take off my clothes and smell them, gladly confirming they're still clean. Without closing the door, I jump in.

It takes me about thirty five minutes (oh that hot water… _oh_) and after I'm done getting fully dressed, I feel a little bit better. Just a little. I can't dry my hair, so I put them into a rushed ponytail. Finally, not having anything better to do, I head outside the door.

The chilling atmosphere has now turned into an absolute cold hell that makes me want to get back inside… but for some reason I don't. I check my cell phone

_thud_

and I see three text messages from an unknown number.

_thud _

When I open the first one, it reads:

_Save this number. Had to dump previous cell. Call me as soon as possible._

The second one:

_Oh. Forget it. Found a way to fix it. We're cool._

And the last one:

_…that means you don't need to call me. The bus will be here in a few. :)_

I take mental notes that I need to stop freaking out every time I receive a text. It's normal and I'm striving for normal, even if that freaks me out more than anything. _You're not normal_, they had been trying to convince my whole life and _You're not… abnormal_, I had been trying to convince Melanie. If this wasn't nerve wrecking enough, my personal demons sure helped.

I smile it off and distract myself with more shivering from the cold weather. I walk to unknown directions and I let the night sky clear my head. People walk beside, behind, opposite or next to me and I'm not letting my guard down but I can't feel any threats just yet. Even though I see fear in the eyes of everyone, like something has recently happened, I feel better than I ever did back in the city. I almost feel in control and since I'm trying to think Melanie's coming safe and sound here… things are looking up.

Ah. But the old lady recognized me. I was hopping we could start anew here and, not that I mind the reputation of my family, but family means roots and I don't want roots when I feel the need to fly every now and then. Big bad wolves are behind me, claws out, ready to attack and I can't stay on the ground.

I need a shirt with a big "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS WEREWOLVES" to remind me that bad, dressed in black guys can't keep me down. I am strong now.

When I come near the beginning of the woods, I don't think twice and take the turn. It's dark and probably dangerous but one of the few things that have remained same here, or at least one of the things I still hope haven't changed, is the Hale's house. I didn't even know them to be honest, but my mother kept reminding me that "they're good people" and I "shouldn't listen to the chit-chat" that was going around at that time. I can only remember a beautiful girl with long, raven hair. I had spent at least two of my birthdays wishing I could get her hair (didn't work), and the only time she talked to me was when our mother's met at a store, started chatting… and instead of replying to the girl's cheerful, "Hey!", I made a complete fool of myself, hiding behind my mum like a baby.

All in all, this is the only memory I can remember without trouble and I find it irritating that it's not of my family but rather of just my mum and some strangers.

_thudthudthud_

I come to a halt and breathe in. My heart's racing and _dammit I hate thinking about the past so much._

I get over it as soon as I see the glade, the burnt smell that's wandering in the air even though it doesn't physically makes sense and then the house. Such a beautiful house, even though it's almost destroyed to the ground and the theme colour is… well, black. It's a shame that no one, seemingly, came back to restore it.

I bring myself closer to it and slowly realize that there's really no one there. There are only a couple car tracks on the dirt but the scenery almost gives off a cold vibe. The house itself gets defensive and tells you to get the hell out of there. Which, frankly, I don't plan on doing, since I have nowhere else I want to go tonight. Not unless Melanie gets here first.

I shake off the feeling that the broken windows are watching me like I'm prey. I get myself in front of the door. I'm close to knocking it, but it's stupid, right? The place is abandoned.

I walk inside and the first thing I notice is the staircase, or at least what it has remained of a staircase. The second floor seems devastated. The inside is in the same, bad shape as the outside. It looks like the fire happened really recently, not years ago, but I don't understand why I can feel life in there. It's basically a cemetery of another family. That's when I become aware of myself and try not to touch anything. Cemetery. Not as creepy as it's chancel. I don't even have the right to be here. The air is full of unsaid threats I'm supposed to listen to.

My phone rings and I jump only high enough that I'm the only one who'd notice if anyone else was around. I don't check the caller ID, ignore my heartbeats and answer.

"You settled in?" she asks without greeting me. I hear people chatting next to her. She's on the bus.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply. "I'm outside, right now."

"Oh? Where?"

"Do you remember the Hale's?"

"Uh," she takes a moment. Then takes another one. She finally gives up. "No. Why?"

I chuckle. "Nevermind."

"So everything's like you thought it'd be?"

"Mmm."

Melanie breathes. "Mmm?"

Should I tell her, or should I let her find out on her own while we're being chased out of Beacon Hills?

"Uh," I struggle. "It's just an idea, but maybe we should change our names to your surname. Get back to Clemens, y' know?" I try to act as normal as possible but I feel her squeezing her eyes on the other line. She doesn't bite normal.

"Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just to have diversity."

"Two surnames isn't diversity. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just told you everything's fine."

"You said 'mmm'," she reminds me, "which never counts as an answer when I use it. I'm on my way there so I'll find out sooner or later anyway, you know."

Because that's just so much better, right?

"Today," I start. "The lady that's got the rooms we'll be staying at. You know, the rental rooms. She recognized my last name."

"No biggie. I thought your parents were friendly with everyone," she sounds like she's chewing on something. She's a lot more relaxed than, say, an hour ago.

"Yeah, that's what I thought until I saw her having a silent panic attack," I sigh. I pace back and forth. "I don't know, Mel, maybe it wasn't like I thought, maybe they had enemies, maybe they'll recognize us here. I… I don't know," I repeat. "I don't want my stupid name to mess things up. I don't want them to find us. That's all."

"Hey, hey, hey," she rushes. "You're the big girl here, right? Don't do this now. You said everything will change. It's changing already. Yes? Don't do this now. We're fine."

As I recompose myself, I'm about to tell her that she's right, that it's just how my mind works and soon enough, I'll stop finding threatening patterns everywhere. But a noise comes from… somewhere and I drop the phone from my ear and turn around.

_thud _

Melanie's talking and I can only hear her mumbling because the phone's on my hand and my hand's near my hips.

_thud_

I find myself frozen and my beating heart is dancing again with fear. My eyes scan the burnt walls around me but I can't see anything, even though I feel the presence.

Presence. _thud_

The noise comes from behind one more time and the next thing I know, I've turned around and my hands are in the air, along with a few wooden boards that were previously scattered around me. I haven't put much thought into it but I'm pretty sure my power has kicked in and I don't care who sees me as long as I'm safe.

But there's no one there to see me.

I'm simply staring at an empty space with the semi-opened door of the house a few paces away from me. The moons is brightly shining on the dirt outside and everything's okay. No one's there.

I haven't crushed my phone in my palm even though I'm holding it too tight. I put it back to my ear hesitantly.

"—wrong?", Melanie's asking. "Hey, Od, you hear me?"

"Yes," I breathe and the boards fall down immediately, no longer needed in my command. "Yes, I'm here. I just thought I…", I relax my position, "heard something. It was the air." It was nothing.

"Where are you, man?" she asks.

"Uh, nowhere. I probably should go find something for us to eat. You must be starving. Call me when you get here and I'll come pick you up." I don't tell her that the bus station is literally next to the place we're staying. Or that I have no money to get us anything. Or that I just heard she's not hungry but I'm totally ignoring her. "Be careful, yes?"

She fumbles a yes, a bit annoyed I'm playing big sister, but says nothing about it because she knows I wouldn't have it any other way. She tells me to be careful too and then hangs up.

I look around. "You're fine," I mutter to myself.


End file.
